Alive, But Alone
by ange1banange1
Summary: After the events of the mid-season finale, Daryl tries to cope with the sadness. [Spoilers! Don't read if you haven't seen the latest episode!] One-shot.


**Hey, everyone! It is with great regret that I write this one-shot, in light of the mid-season finale that we all witnessed last night. From the way people have been reacting the last 24 hours over all social medias, we're all very depressed over the loss of a great character that had been given so much potential for an amazing, reformed young woman. As a tribute to our fallen lady warrior and the hurt that Daryl will undoubtedly go through when the show returns in February, here is my prediction for 5B. (Just a side note, I cried from the moment it happened, through the hour drive back to my dorm, and only got 2 hours of sleep because I couldn't unsee that episode and it killed me to see it unfold.)**

…

They had been walking in silence for about three days, the weight of Beth's death casting a heavy load on all of their shoulders. They all had chosen to communicate with pointed looks and gestures rather than words. What could words do for them now? Maggie hadn't seemed to let up on her crying since the hospital. Glenn walked beside her constantly, holding her hand tightly in his, keeping her just barely afloat. They were all in that state of dismay; incredible, their first sight of the girl since the fall of the prison was of her limp, bloody body being carried out of her captivity. The youngest member of the Greene family. Maggie was the last of her family now. Once in a while, each member of the group wondered if they were the last of their line as well, but Maggie knew – they all knew – she was the last.

Rick usually walked beside Daryl, just on instinct, either to talk about settlement plans or going over their supplies or even just to stand beside his lieutenant. But now he kept a watchful eye on the stoic warrior. He had seen the effect of the loss of Beth seconds after her blood ran. It had shaken Daryl to the bone and now he was in perpetual mourning. His long, dark hair hid most of his gaze, but Rick could see his tired eyes watching their steps rather than watching the surroundings like usual. He had locked himself away in his head with no thought of coming out. The archer's shoulders were sagged, like he had been defeated, and in a way he had but no one, not even Rick, could ever understand why. Only Beth understood.

_I'm not gonna leave you!_ Her shaking voice rang out in his mind. I was trying to protect you. That's why I told you to leave, he thought. I shouldn't have opened that door. I shouldn't have let my guard down. I shouldn't have stopped running. I shouldn't have gone back for the group. I should have saved you myself!

_Oh…_ The biting pain in his chest arose again, and he tried to endure it. He was sure the others were doing the same. God knows Maggie was feeling it out loud. He gripped his crossbow so tightly that he was vaguely aware of the string cutting through his fingers. He hadn't even bothered to bring the weapon up in defense, feeling that if a walker came around he wouldn't even flinch.

_I'll be gone someday._ Stop it, he groaned at his memories. _You're gonna be the last man standing._ I don't want to be. Being alone is worse than being alive. _You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon._ Shut up, Beth. No one likes a know-it-all. But you knew, didn't you? He remembered the look she'd gave him when she'd said that, the look that, in hindsight, was like she had seen the future and was warning him of this pain. Even in death, she was trying to heal him. That intrusive girl…

The entire mission to the hospital, he had been wondering after her. How would their reunion play out? He would never admit it, but he hoped she would run up to him and throw her arms around him. He would never admit that he wanted to feel her embrace again. He would never admit that it killed him to know that his only shining hope in this fucking world was dead.

A gentle hand on his arm practically made him jump out of his skin. Rick had stopped him in the middle of the road, whispering, "C'mon. 'Gotta talk." He got Michonne's attention, his eyes telling her what he was thinking. The woman stopped everyone, quietly saying that they needed to stop for a bit. With the group in order, Rick led Daryl into the thicket of the woods. Without much aggression, Daryl pulled himself out of Rick's grasp to walk on his own. The sheriff wasn't sure if he would follow but was surprised when he willingly trudged along, slowly but at least he was cooperating.

They stopped in the middle of a clearing, just staring at each other. Daryl's dark eyes were hooded and bleak, with heavy bags under them. Rick had seen the way the man was sleeping – or rather, wasn't sleeping. He would stay up watching the dying fire most nights, after trying time after time to get some shut eye, only to be woken up by a jolting nightmare. Rick could very well make assumptions about the subject of the dreams. "Do ya need me t'go huntin'?" Daryl weakly asked, like he had no idea what their food status was. Because he didn't. He hadn't eaten since the hospital; only taking a few small sips of water a couple of hours at a time.

"No," Rick said softly. "No, that's not what I wanna talk about."

"Then what?" Daryl shrugged. "We're wastin' time." _Goin' nowhere._

"Daryl, I don't know where yer head's at, but I need ya back here with me."

"What'er ya-"

"I know it hit ya hard…losin' Beth-"

"Stop it," he growled. "Don't."

Rick was about to cave and end the conversation for Daryl's sake, but he saw that spark of life in his reaction. This road was dangerous, but if he could get his brother to reach closure with the most recent loss, then maybe there was still a chance. "Whatever happened between you two after the prison – y'need to hold on to that, rather than replaying her death in yer head."

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are. No one is blamin' you. This ain't your fault!"

"Yes, it is!" he yelled, but suddenly got quiet, like he had realized something. "No… it's her fault…"

"Daryl?"

"It's her fault. She was the one that made me think that there were still good, decent people in this world. That everyone could be good and fair and that everyone could go home. That's what Tyreese said, didn't he? 'Everyone goes home' that's what he said! He lied! Beth didn't come home! She'll never come home! _They killed her!_" The distraught man fell to his knees, his forehead resting against the ground, the tears flowing again, harder than before.

"Daryl…" Rick's fatherly instincts kicked in as he knelt down to rub Daryl's back. He had never seen the man like this, not even when he announced that he had put Merle down. Beth's death had gutted him far worse than any other fallen comrade, so much that Rick was worried for Daryl's wellbeing.

"I had her. I almost had her again." Daryl mumbled into the dirt.

…

When Daryl had composed himself, wiped his eyes with the back of his dirty hand, Rick had one last thing to say. He pulled something out of his pocket, taking hold of his friend's wrist and placing it in his palm.

"I was gonna give this to Maggie when she was done mourning, but I think you need it more."

In the palm of Daryl's hand was the heart-shaped charm that she had worn every day since the farm. He had overheard her say back at the prison that her mother had given it to her for her sixteenth birthday. At one point, the chain had snapped, but she had been persistent and tied a black cord she found around the charm to keep it with her always, as a memory of her mother. The black cord was gone and the charm was scratched and worn with time, but it was the only thing he had left of her, so he did not refuse it.

That night, he wound pieces of surgical thread through the charm until it was strong enough to hold and put it around his neck, low enough to be out of sight but never not pressed against his skin.

…

"_Daryl!" her voice called from beyond the fog._

"_Beth? Where are you?" he replied back blindly. He saw a shadow with her shape burst out of the white on white. Soon, he saw her face, breaking into a huge, teary-eyed smile and she ran to him. He caught her in the tight embrace, not caring that he couldn't quite feel her warmth. "Beth, oh, Beth, thank God." He whispered to himself. Something between a sob and a laugh bubbled out of him, as if he couldn't contain his relief. He stroked her shoulders, her back, her hair, trying so hard to _feel_ her, to know that she was actually here. He paused when something unusual caught his attention. The crown of her head… something wasn't right._

"_I told you, Daryl," she said, into his shoulder, tears soaking her words and his shirt. "I told you."_

_When he pulled his hand away to see, his fingers were caked with blood. He almost screamed, but it paused in his throat when teeth bit into his neck and he recognized the scent of a walker._

He started awake, realizing that he was in camp and the fire had barely gone down since he'd attempted to sleep. He ran a hand down his face in exhaustion. The dreams were always the same. The past three nights, he'd stayed up staring into the fire pit until his eyes burned, but this time, Judith began to whine which turned into the makings of a hard cry. Rick, who was lying next to him on his own blanket, stirred awake to check on his baby. Daryl put a hand on his shoulder, saying, "I got this one, brother."

"Ya sure?" The man asked sleepily. He probably didn't even know what he was saying yet.

"Yeah, go back to sleep." Daryl shakily got up to pick Judith up out of her nest of warm blankets. She instantly clung to his vest collar, nibbling on the seam as she whimpered. "Shh shh," he whispered gently. "I gotcha, Lil Asskicker. Heh, I guess I should be careful with callin' ya that, in case ya start talkin'. Don't need a pretty thing like you talkin' ugly like a Dixon." He got somber all of a sudden. "If Beth was here, she'd'a sang to ya. Maybe ya would've picked up on singin'. Would'a been nice to have another singer 'round here with how gloomy things are nowadays…"

The baby was starting to settle down, when Daryl decided to do something new. He couldn't remember all the words, but he had a song stuck in his head that, at the time, he thought Judith would have liked to hear it. He began to hum the song he'd heard Beth singing the first night they spent at the funeral home. _"Hmm hmm hmmm hm hmm… 'n pine for summer… hm hm hmmm…beer to shotgun…hm hmm hm hm hmm… and we'll be good…"_ He went through what he recalled of the tune, putting in little words he'd picked up, and soon, the toddler was off to sleep again. He must have hummed the song six times over and over again, until he realized that Judith had fallen asleep and he was singing to no one in particular. He was almost surprised that he wasn't crying, but he wasn't any happier than before, and Beth was still dead.

Maybe it was the still-burning fire reflecting off the strands of hair over his eyes, but he swears he sees a fleck of yellow in the corner of his eye. He watches the trees for movement, before carefully setting Judith down in her makeshift crib, and creeping off to check on the intruder. He welds his crossbow, still in protector mode, peeking around every tree and every bush for walker or human alike.

He comes upon a clearing when he sees a faint outline of a shadow in the darkness. "Come out; show yourself," he growled and waited.

Slowly, the person shifts out on careful feet in brown cowboy boots. Daryl's eyes widened as he recognized the boots. He trailed his gaze up the person's form, hoping that it was just a walker and he could just kill it and get it over with. But it wasn't. No walker was this clean. No walker stood this steady. The light jeans they wore were still torn at the knees and the yellow polo was still small, hidden by a thick gray sweater that he had given her after he'd bloodied the first cardigan with walker guts, but there was no doubt. He let himself give in to the sight, lowering his bow and collapsing his tense shoulders. "Beth." It wasn't a question. It was her.

He wondered if this was what it was like for Rick when Lori died. And Michonne had told him quietly that she'd used to see her dead boyfriend. But damn, he felt crazy seeing it for himself. Her silky, blonde hair was down, spilling over her shoulders like it had been back on the farm, and her scars had healed to be slightly pink ridges of skin. Her lips were laced into her trademark smile, the same smile that lit up her face in the glow of a burning shack of moonshine. She looked damn beautiful for someone that got shot in the head just a few days ago.

Daryl fell to his knees for the second time that day. His eyes hadn't begun to water yet, but he was in awe of her in all her glory. "Please, don't do this to me," he murmured under his breath. "Don't tease me; just kill me already. I can't do this anymore." She took step after step toward him, until she was only a foot away. The angel stared down unblinkingly into his dark eyes. Her hand reached out to brush some of his hair away, and he felt her warmth. She wasn't a mist like he had thought the dead would be; she was whole, but he couldn't bear to reach out and touch her himself. He let her touch him, stroking his hair and his forehead, down his temple to his jaw. "I wanted to show ya my scars," he said suddenly, seemingly confusing her by the way her perfect eyebrows furrowed. "The ones on my back from my father. No one knows 'bout 'em, but I wanted you to know 'bout 'em. I wanted to show ya that scars don't define you. You taught me that. I wanted to tell you all my secrets that I'm too scared t'tell anyone else. I wanted t'tell ya that everythin' ya said to me was right." _Places like this… you have to put it away… or it kills you._ "Some-some of what ya said I wish wasn't true, but it is now." _I'll be gone someday. _"I- I know ya said I'd be the last man standin', but I don't want to be. Not without you." _You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon._ "Ya were so strong, an' none of 'em will ever truly know." _I'm not like you or them, but I made it!_ He was crying now, and in his shame, he couldn't lift his eyes from off the ground. It was beginning to get harder and harder to see through the tears. He spitefully thought, she's probably already disappeared again.

Her warm palm cupping his jaw proved him wrong as she lifted his head to meet her eyes. They shined with tears and her bottom lip was shaking like she was about to cry with him. But still she said nothing. "I never got t'tell ya that I looked for you. I ran all night lookin' for ya when they took ya away from me. I never stopped lookin'." His own voice plagued his thoughts. _Governor rolled right up t'our gates… maybe if I wouldn't've stopped lookin'. Maybe 'cause I gave up, that's on me! _"I never gave up on ya."

Her lips parted as she took a breath, as if she was going to finally say something, but she only kept her eyes on his. Her eyes were clear now, but frustration was starting to wear on Daryl. "Why won't ya talk t'me, Beth?" he asked desperately. "Jus'…just tell me what I'm supposed t'do from here. I'm so tired of losin' people. I'm so tired of it all." He swallowed the last of his tears and said confidently, "I wanna go."

He recalled her saying the same words when she was at her worst back at the farm. He had been looking for Maggie to ask her if she wanted to come on a run with them, when he stumbled upon the two sisters talking and listened as Beth had tried to rationalize them both killing themselves together. He had called her a coward in his head that day, and thank God she hadn't gone through with it, but now, it seemed like the only option he could manage. She gave him a skeptical smirk and he couldn't help but crack a stupid grin at her expression. It was a very Dixon look. "Problem is… I don't know how. I've only known how to fight, how to survive. How am I supposed t'do that without ya?"

She ran her fingers across the thread that held her charm. She plucked it out of his shirt herself, and held it in her open palm. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. Still she said nothing. But instead, she took his face in both of her tiny hands and kissed his forehead. He could have broken down into sobs again at the close contact, and he tried to press forward to make it last, his eyes fluttering shut. This was as close as he would ever let anyone touch him again. No one would replace Beth in his heart.

When he opened his eyes again, she was gone. He let one last tear slip as he listened to the empty air, the wisps of the nightly breeze billowing in his ears. Within the air, he just barely thought that he heard her voice. _Be good,_ it said.

Daryl swore that he would try, for the sake of the only light left alive in the world: Judith. And he hoped that, if there was a heaven, he'd see Beth again. And who knew when he would; maybe he would end it tomorrow or he would wait until he had survived the apocalypse and died old and wrinkly, but either way, he would see her again.

…

People were around him, crying, touching his shoulder as if their mere skin would save him. But he didn't hear them, didn't feel them. His breathing was labored but he still let a smile grace his chapped lips. He pulled out the old, heart-shaped charm – he'd never taken it off – and clutched it tightly in his fist. The pain was nothing; he'd endured worse. But this time, he was ready and waiting for it to end. He'd done his job, kept his promises, and now it was time. Familiar fingers brushed back his hair from his eyes and he let himself drift off. As he left them, he whispered to the little dusty-brown-haired girl beside him. _Be good._

…

**Thank you so much for reading and, as twisted as it sounds, I kind of hope you cried as much as I did writing this. As sad as it is – and I know that if Daryl dies there are gonna be riots all over the country – but the way I see it right now is that Beth's death has hit him so hard that he might contemplate doing something stupid like attempt suicide. I hope he doesn't but I just can't imagine him finding any sort of happiness after losing this many people that he's gotten close to. But that's just my two cents. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it regardless, and I hope that we all recover from the post-mid-season finale depression. 3**


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